I enjoy writing. It is a fulfilling and limitless pathway of creation to pursue at every occasion. What I am unable to describe in a poem or a song I can readily capture in story-form. The list of endeavors continues to build, but each one of them proves to be uniquely rewarding in its’ own way. I find that by writing things down with pencil or pen, I can open up thought-channels much faster to be able to speak them. By writing on a laptop computer or desktop it doesn’t feel the same for whatever reason. It comes off to me as being rather inauthentic, or, foreign to me, as instantly I can recognize a morbid form of agitation stressing my right-mindedness. But I catch it quickly enough and remember that it’s just who I am and what makes me unique. Writing with MS isn’t brain-science, and it’s not a fit of worry and stress due to lack of balance and coordination, but certainly writing allows me much more freedom to traipse along different language pathways, constructs, contexts and art-forms. I wouldn’t typically choose than would playing music to thousands of fans and followers. Well? I guess you could call it a different “act” then where I must play a new character and appeal to a much different audience. I want to believe that life could be that way: where love would follow you no matter where you turned and who you became.
Oct 5th 2020
I’ll try to put down in words exactly what it is I mean to say, but I can’t. I feel it’s nearly impossible. The mind works too fast in order for me to justify any reason for giving it much thought or attention, however, I am going to put it against the world anyway. I am going to write with the expectation that you are already aware of my life, as boring as it may be, and are up to speed with who I am (as if I weren’t enough already). But the joke is? That they have all left me. Vacated and taken off. Like gypsies, after decades of my devoted time and energies they have disappeared. Completely vanished without any explanation or conversation whatsoever, although? I do have an idea of what it might be. And because they made the incorrect assumption and judgement on my part of the deal, what difference does it make to discard a remnant covenant arc of the past? There is no real loss from letting go. Who cares about another man’s ship without a sail? I could carry the salt of slave’ sweat on my shoulders for there is none.